


Book IV: The Emperor

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [4]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Discovery, Dreams, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fate, Investigations, Magic, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Plague
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 02:37:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: Shayde wakes for the first morning of her investigation for the Countess and is shown Doctor Devorak’s desk in the Palace library. After finding a drawing with an emotional tie to him, Shayde follows the trail, but only finds more questions.





	Book IV: The Emperor

I’m back on the black stone path, whipped by wind and rust-colored sand. The thick, dark clouds hanging overhead are heavier than before. Before …? I’m dreaming. But if I’m dreaming again … where is Asra? The unforgiving wind burns my eyes as I search the desolate landscape. Up ahead, too far ahead to reach, Asra’s still with the lumbering beast. They’ve stopped at a fork in the road. One way goes east, the other west. Asra dismounts the creature, placing a hand on its hide. It turns down the path to the east. Asra walks west, and I know at once that he is going the wrong way.

“Not that way! Not again!” I cry. Again? His head turns. Even from the uncrossable distance, I feel our eyes meet.

“… Shayde?” His voice is just a longing whisper on the wind. It’s too far. I can’t reach him. Asra drops his gaze, turns back, and continues down the westward path, fading from my sight. I’m calling after him even as my dream is swallowed by sand. Sunlight tickles my face. I open my eyes with a groan. An unfamiliar voice reaches me.

“Morning, Shayde!” Portia sets out a tray of breakfast pastries while I slowly sit up.

“What a lovely sunrise. Did you sleep well?” Portia asks. “The Countess wants you to meet her in the library once you’ve eaten and dressed.” Portia sets a neat pile of elegant clothing on the bed beside me. I unfold the top piece, marveling at the way the fabric moves.

“We took your old clothes to be laundered. Milady asked me to provide these for you.” Portia interjects. “I’ll be waiting in the hall, whenever you’re ready.” Portia ducks out the door. I move the silky garments aside and toss back my bedcovers. I eat quickly, not wanting to keep the Countess waiting. The pastries are still warm and flaky, each more delicate and whimsical than the last. Then I disrobe and pull on my new outfit, fumbling with its delicate clasps and buttons. When I’m finished, I step out into the hall where Portia is waiting.

“Oooh! Don’t you look nice!” Portia gushes when she sees me. “The Countess has a real eye for fashion. She’ll definitely be pleased.” Portia stops before a panel in the wall, three times my height. It is crafted of smooth wood in all tones of rippling honey. Carved with dizzying intricacy is a great tree in the height of maturity. Its leaves and fruit are inlaid with jewels, precious stones, and mother of pearl. The craftsmanship is astounding.

“It’s milady’s own work. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Portia retrieves a ring of keys from her pocket. There are about a dozen, each carved of the same wood as the panel, and each bearing a distinct jewel. One by one, she finds their locks in the panel, though I wonder how. Their locations seem completely random to me. With each key, the roots of the tree start to unwind from each other, pulling free from the floor. When all the locks have all been turned, the panel folds upon itself on either side like a paper fan. The room beyond is revealed, and my breath catches in my chest. There are books everywhere. Books winding up the walls, reaching for the ceiling. The Countess is waiting for us, seated in a reclining chair. Her eyes glitter with approval when she see me.

“Shayde. You look positively radiant.” She says by way of greeting. She gestures to the towering shelves all around us. “Do you read?” Countess Nadia asks. I nod, still looking around the large room in delighted interest. The Countess tempers her surprise, but I still see it regardless.

“Ah. Somehow, I suspected that you might.” She says. “It is a great gift, to read. Where I come from, it is shared amongst all citizens. But woefully uncommon here. This way, if you please.” She leads me deeper into the shelves. Portia follows behind with the jingling ring of keys. I can’t stop staring at all the books. My fingers itch to run along their spines, but I resist if only just. The Countess notices my poorly hidden longing.

“Shayde … you _are_ my guest. If you should like to return here, you need only ask. But for the moment …” The Countess stops before an alcove, nestled between the shelves. “… I would have your undivided attention here.” Intrigued, I peer around the bookcase. A desk stands in a slim ray of daylight, cast from a tiny window. Books, journals, papers, and scrolls cover every inch of the desk. Despite the clutter, everything is carefully organized. Someone’s place of study, preserved in time.

“This was Doctor Devorak’s desk.” Countess Nadia explains. “He was employed at the Palace, as was your Master Asra. We called upon them to concoct a cure for the plague.” My blood runs cold. The red plague, as it was called, swept through the city like wildfire. It claimed young and old, frail and strong. There was no way to tell who would succumb. Cases are rare, now. I can’t remember the last time I saw the telltale red in the whites of someone’s eyes.

“Physicians, scientists, alchemists, fortune tellers, magicians … All were invited, in hopes that our resources may aid in their research. Perhaps he was plotting even then … but the Doctor accepted our invitation. As did your Master Asra.” Her gaze shifts up to the window. It overlooks a large willow tree, which hangs over the fountain in the garden below.

“I have had the desk and its contents examined laboriously. Nothing of consequence has been found. But perhaps you will make better use of it. It is the best lead I can offer.” The Countess says. She draws away, passing me and perfuming the air with jasmine.

“The search for Doctor Devorak is now in your hands. You may proceed how you see fit. I ask only that you meet with me for dinner this evening.” She smiles serenely and sweeps out f the room, Portia following in her wake. I am left alone with the Doctor’s desk. There is a stack of books, a leather bound folio, and scrolls tucked away in a little row of drawers. I think I’ll start with the books.

I open a well-loved tome and flip through the pages. It appears to be a surgical guide. I note with some discomfort that some of the diagrams are stained with old blood. Many of the pages are scrawled over with the Doctor’s notes. His handwriting is completely indecipherable. I can’t make any sense of it. Well, he _is_ a doctor and they all seem to have horrible handwriting. And more importantly, I sense nothing from the books. No lingering trace of the Doctor. I’ll have to look elsewhere for a hint.

The folio papers are a little gold with age and thin, some almost transparent. A meticulous drawing catches my eye. It’s neat lines contrast sharply with the Doctor’s messy writing. Somehow, the patterns and shapes look very familiar, like I’ve seen them before. I trace one with my fingertip, and the hairs on my arm stand on end. There. An echo of … desperation, and single-minded purpose. It’s a faint trace at best, but I can sense what the Doctor was feeling when he made these drawings. I roll the drawing into a tight scroll and stow it in my bag.

This fragile piece of paper … it’s something the Doctor cared about. Something with a connection to him. A surge of excitement and apprehension rushes through me. I can use this. With the scroll and my magic to assist me … I might be able to find him. I glance out the window at the sky, it’s a bit past noon. If I’m quick, I should be back in time for dinner with the Countess.

The sun starts dipping in the sky as I make my way back into the city. My breath grows short as tremors do anxiety radiate from my gut, spreading to my fingertips. I haven’t done magic like this on my own. I’ve always had Asra with me before … Asra. Memories of his familiar voice soothe my mind. _Start with your breath. Follow with your heart, and be present._ Finding the calm I need, I gather up my magic, holding the scroll in both hands. A tingling grows at the base of my neck. I follow the feeling away from the Palace, through the city streets.

I end up in a narrow, slippery street at the south end of Vesuvia. Its shabby stones are layered like scales. Clustered apartments line the passage, and murky reddish water swirls in the sluggish canal. Suddenly a door in front of me swings open, casting warm light down three jagged stone steps.

“Oh, I’ll be back. Just stepping out for some air.” A familiar voice says. Doctor Devorak steps out through the open door. I freeze mid-step, my heart leaving into my throat. My spell … worked. But I hadn’t thought about _what_ I’d do when I found him. I try to back away quietly, but something catches my heel, toppling me noisily into a thankfully empty barrel. The next thing I know, I’m staring at the sky, limbs flailing uselessly as quick boot-steps approach.

“Hello, that was quite a tumble, are you all right?” The Doctor leans over the barrel, extending a hand to help. He rears back when he sees my face.

“The … the shopkeep? What are you doing here?” He asks. “Come on, upsy-daisy.” A firm grip encircles each of my wrists, and I’m hauled out of the barrel like a snail shucked from its shell. I stagger forward right into the Doctor’s broad, gleaming chest, which I can see at the moment because he is without his jacket or overcoat. He looks so much more casual in just the plain white collared shirt, though he is still wearing the gloves. For a moment, his eye meets mine in surprise at our sudden proximity. Then, with a friendly pat to my arms, he releases me. I take a good look at my surroundings for the first time. We’re behind a tavern, well-hidden from the street. Painted on the door is a cackling black bird, lying back on a crescent moon. The Rowdy Raven, it reads. I’ve never heard of this place …

“Dare I ask what brings you to this neck of the woods?” The Doctor asks me. I open my mouth, but no words come out. How do I even begin to explain? ‘Oh, nothing much. Just hunting you down so that the Countess can hang you in front of the whole city. You know how it goes.’ I can see that going over well. The Doctor gives me a knowing look, and casts a glance to the open door. Its warm light glows between us. He turns to me with a glint in his eye. I sense trouble.

“Rumor has it that you’re working for the Palace.” He says with that insufferable grin of his. “I’m sure—well, by now—you’ve heard some interesting stories about me.” I nod. That much is true, if a gross understatement.

“But you haven’t heard my side of the tale, have you?” He asks. That’s true too. All my knowledge is from the Countess’ account, the wanted posters, and the muddled rumors … I have to agree that they may not be the best source of information. “Besides, I do still owe you for the reading. Are you thirsty? My treat.”

“I _am_ thirsty.” I say. And more importantly, I need answers from him. His face splits in a brilliant grin.

“Oh, fantastic. Please, allow me.” He beckons me up the steps to the door, easing it open and leading me through to the warmth inside. It’s not even sundown, but the tavern is in full swing. The noise is cacophonous. The barkeep, wide, scar-faced and barrel-armed, gives the Doctor a cheeky salute when we pass by. A cackling drunkard swings out a wooden leg, which Doctor Devorak politely pushes aside. Tutting, my escort guides me to a cozy booth in the back.

“You make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back.” He breezes past me towards the bar. I try to sit still as I look around. Nearby, a pair of old crones are hunched over a card game, attended by a squabbling crowd. Up at the bar, the doctor chats with the barkeep. They both erupt into peels of laughter at some joke. He looks perfectly at ease, so different from when I met him at the shop … He turns, making his way back with our drinks. He sets mine before me. He slides into the booth across from me, gulping down his drink with gusto. I peer into the golden liquid in my cup. Smells faintly like fruit. I take a sip. It’s refreshing, barely sweet, and fizzes on the way down.

“You know, I never did get your name.” The Doctor says. Fingers interlocking on the table between us, he gives me a look of encouragement.

“… Shayde.” I say, somewhat uncertainly. The Doctor smiles.

“Ahh. Shayde, what a lovely name.” He says wistfully. “A musical name. _Shayde_.” He offers me his hand. Though I hesitate to place mine in his leathery grip, I manage. His smile broadens into a toothy grin. I clear my throat, looking him dead in the eye.

“You said you’d tell me your side of the story.” I remind him.

“Oh, I did, didn’t I? How careless of me.” He laughs at my incredulous expression. Then he leans back in the booth, long limbs going every which way. By the stars, he is tall.

“All right, ask anything you like.” He says. Wordlessly, I reach into my bag and hand him the scroll from the library. Once he starts reading, the smile slides from his face. He leans over the page, frowning in concentration. The map-like, winding patterns draw me in once again. I find myself leaning over the scroll for a closer look. I only look away when I feel Julian’s eye on me.

“Where did you find this?” He asks.

“It was on your desk. In the Palace library.” I answer easily. No point in lying. He looks away, but not before I see a flinch of pain cross his face.

“Oh. Well … this is a slice of, ah … of a human brain.” He says. “The patterns are unique, actually, to each individual.” He sounds almost like a teacher, and while this is interesting, I am more curious about how _he_ learned this.

“Individual?” I ask almost in a whisper. It is a very vaguely worded question, and not at all how I intended to phrase it. I wait to see if he understands my cryptic query. I meet his gaze, and he stiffens with trepidation. I think he knows what I am asking and is hoping I’ll not ask again. But I have to know.

“You mean to say … you’ve seen individual brains sliced like this?” I clarify. Julian steeples his fingers and rests his chin on his thumbs. His expression is ghastly to look at. I almost tell him to forget it.

“There are other drawings, aren’t there? At the Palace?” I nod slowly, and he drums his fingers on his clenched jaw in clear distress. “Well, you’d better put that one back. Trust me, they’ll notice it’s gone.” As if he can’t stand to look at it a moment longer, he rolls it up and hands it to me. I take the scroll and stow it in my bag. It feels heavier now, as if the page took on the weight of his ominous words.

“Excuse me.” Whisking the steins away, Julian heads back to the bar. Shrill bickering erupts from the card-playing crones’ table. Julian whispers to one of the crones as he passes by, and taps a single card in her hand. The card is played, throwing the crowd into chaos. Julian ducks away just as someone douses him with their drink. He’s still wiping it off, chuckling when he returns to his seat.

“You would think I’d know better than to get involved.” He says by way of explanation. I raise an eyebrow. He’s not wearing a mask here, and everyone seems to know him.

“You’re not worried about being seen?”

“Here? Nooo. No, I’m not too worried.” He replies. “Folks around here aren’t known to, uh, to oblige the wants and wishes of the Palace. Even the raven spends his time scouting for guards. Obsessively.” Julian scans the smoky rafters while I process what he told me. It’s … a little surprising. Where Asra and I live, the guards are treated with reverence. And fear, in no small measure. Suddenly the raven in question bursts in through a dusty window overhead, flying in loops with a guttural shriek. The bird beats itself against a string of bells, and the tavern erupts into utter chaos.

“Guards! Palace guards!” Calls the barkeep. Patrons claw their way out every door and window, playing cards tossed and fluttering in the air. Julian scoops me bodily from my seat and rushes me out the back door, back into the alley. It’s getting cold, and the sun’s almost set completely. The Doctor casts a frantic glance up and down the alley before crowding me into the shadows. He leans down and speaks in a whisper.

“You’ll be able to find your way, yes? The guards aren’t after you …” I nod. He clasps my upper arms and looks deep into my eyes. “Thanks. For not, well … thanks, Shayde.” He turns and vanishes, leaving me all alone in the silent, shuttered alley. I’m loathe to admit that I miss his presence. Now what do I do? I thought Julian might give me answers … but all I have are more swirling questions.

“Hey! You there!” I whirl around as two armed guards appear at the alley entrance. They march toward me, but when they’re close enough to see my face, they stop.

“Oh. The Countess’ magician.” The guard gives me a short, sharp bow. “Ahem. I’m Ludovico. We meet yesterday, at the gates.” I nod, trying to summon up some confidence. The encounter with the Doctor has left me a little off-kilter.

“Yes, I’m supposed to dine with the Countess again tonight. But it’s getting late …” Ludovico briskly waves off my unasked question.

“We’ll hail you a carriage back. Don’t want to keep the Countess waiting.” He leads me back to a broader street, hails a gilded carriage, and closes the door behind me. The Palace looms over the carriage as it approaches, a white monolith against the twinkling night sky. Portia’s waiting for me at the gates, ready to help me out of the carriage. She’s unusually quiet, not at all her usual cheerful self. I keep silent as well, occupied by tangled thoughts of my own.

The grand doors of the dining room swing open as we arrive to reveal an extravagant meal, piled high upon the long table. Everything is richly seasoned with rare spices. I can recognize the scent of saffron wafting towards us.

“You’re right on time, Shayde. I hope your day was fruitful.” Countess Nadia says. That depends on how you define ‘fruitful’, I suppose. I think I’ll keep that to myself for now. A servant seats me and fills my glass with a pale rose beverage. The delicate floral aroma reminds me of the Countess’ perfume.

“First, let us attend to some small matters. My courtiers are most eager to meet you. I shall introduce you to them tomorrow afternoon. They will want to know everything about you, but choose wisely what you wish to tell. I will be informing them of the Masquerade as well. I imagine they will be ecstatic.” I nod slowly as I chew my food. The ways of the court are foreign to me, and I am content to keep it that way. But I can trust, at the very least, that the Countess won’t allow me to be too much of an embarrassment.

“And tomorrow at noon, Portia will lead a retinue into the town square to announce the Masquerade.” Nadia continues. “Once the townspeople hear, word will spread on its own. And then it shall be out of our hands. I imagine the crowds will be eager to see Count Lucio’s murderer hang.” I think of Julian as he was tonight, bathed in the warm, welcoming light of the tavern. Then my mind shows me him swinging from the gallows. My heart grows cold at the image, but I’m careful not to let it show on my face.

“But these are tomorrow’s matters.” The Countess concludes. “Tonight, Shayde, I have questions.”

“Questions?” I ask. I brace myself for the inevitable queries about where I went … what I’ve been doing. But they don’t come.

“Yes, I wish to become familiar with you.” She replies. Her words catch me off guard, but I quickly recover. I didn’t expect her to have any interest in who I was.

“Let us be strangers no longer. May tonight be the beginning of a valuable friendship.” She starts with simple questions. How I enjoy the town, my daily goings on, my favorite thing to eat, and so forth. I ask her questions in turn, and learn that her favorite food is spiced swordfish.

“In Prakra, spiced swordfish is a summer dish.” Nadia explains. “I would hardly suffer a warm night without it.” Prakra, a vast land in the North. The Countess’ home, though I had thought it was only a rumor. “The kitchen does try to humor my requests, but alas, they can never seem to spice it quite right.”

“Do you ever miss living there?” I ask. The Countess looks thoughtfully down into her glass, elegant fingers curled delicately around its stem.

“Perhaps. I don’t think I would ever return to Prakra, but there are things I miss about my home.” She says at last. “Often when I was feeling morose, I would take a walk down to the white beaches of my homeland. Observing the opalescent waves crash over the sands would soothe my worried soul.” The bittersweet expression on her face as she speaks of her homeland makes her look years younger. I notice that the servants are listening as they work, watching the Countess and I with wondering eyes.

“Well, if we are to reminisce, perhaps we should do so somewhere more private. Would you care to join me on the veranda for a nightcap?” Nadia looks down at me, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Just the two of us.” Then she holds her hand out towards me, waiting expectantly. I hate to disappoint her, but …

“No thank you.” I say as apologetically as I can.

“Ah, you are tired? Or perhaps shy …?” Nadia says. I don’t get a chance to answer because she continues. “It is quite alright, Shayde. I understand completely. I do hope you will have a pleasant evening. Portia, please show our guest back to her room.” Nadia exits the dining room, the scent of jasmine lingering in the air for a moment before fading as well. Portia appears at my elbow, smiling warmly. I nod gratefully, and get to my feet, following Portia out. Our footsteps echo in the empty halls. Portia walks cheerfully beside me.

“Here, I’ll show you a shortcut back to your room.” She offers. “Juuuuust in case Mercedes and Melchior are skulking around again.” She leads me down a narrow, dusty hallway. Her fingers find the edge of a moth-eaten tapestry. With a dramatic flourish, she reveals a secret passage on the other side. She throws a smile and a wink my way, gesturing for me to step in.

“You knew this was here?” I ask. Her soft laugh echos down the gloomy hallway, and her eyes glitter with mischief. Much like another redhead I’m familiar with.

“It’s my job to know everything around here. Including little tricks like this.” Portia replies. It’s dim on the other side, the floor uneven beneath my feet. I have no idea where I am, but Portia seems to know exactly where she’s going.

“You know, things have gotten a lot more interesting around here since you showed up.” Portia begins. “And all the rumors floating around, my goodness! You’d think we had nothing to do but chat!”

“Do you hear a lot of rumors?” I question.

“Why? Something you want to tell me, Shayde?” She shoots back.

“Um…” Caught off-guard, I lapse back into silence. I don’t even know how to begin explaining what happened at the Rowdy Raven…After a few twists and turns, we’re out of the narrow passage and back in the guest wing. It seems servants came during the day to tidy up. They’ve placed a fresh pitcher of water on the desk. Incense burns by the window, filling the room with hazy swirls of wood and spice. When I drop my bag at the foot of the bed, the scroll from Julian’s desk rolls out. Portia spots it. She looks as if she’s dying to ask me a question, but it falters before it can escape her lips.

“You seem concerned.” I say.

“Concerned?” Portia asks. “Me? Maybe. It’s just … the Doctor … he can’t be the only suspect, right? Just between you and me … I think Count Lucio had a lot of enemies, too. I wasn’t working here when it happened. I’ve only heard rumors of what went on that night. Just … keep your eyes peeled for anything strange, all right?” Strange …? I feel that around here, something strange is normal, and normal is what should be viewed as strange. Then Portia smiles, the worry clearing from her face. She leans in close to me, voice low.

“Y’know … if you’re not too tired yet, I could show you around the place. There’s a lot of interesting things on the grounds. Maybe I could show you some secrets … If you think you can handle them.” Is she teasing me? She smiles, giving me another wink, and tilts her head, waiting for an answer.

“I’m far too tired.” I say regretfully.

“I get it, you had a long day, and a lot on your mind.” Portia says. “Get some rest. Tomorrow milady wants you to join us in town to announce the Masquerade. I’ll be back at dawn, don’t sleep in!” With that, she’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts.


End file.
